


Harder than Diamonds

by lolitaxlolita



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, dwarf secrets, preslash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-10
Updated: 2016-10-10
Packaged: 2018-08-21 17:29:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8254297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lolitaxlolita/pseuds/lolitaxlolita
Summary: Gimli stood at the edge of the cliff, staring down into the roiling water and rocks which waited far below. His eyes, while not as unnaturally sharp as an elf’s, were nonetheless keener than a human’s, and with them he desperately scanned the waters for signs that Aragorn had survived the fall. As the minutes passed, he was forced to admit to himself that the lad was not going to resurface. Completed for the 1000 Fics of Gigolas collection. Yas!





	

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [2000GigolasFics](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/2000GigolasFics) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> Movieverse: After Aragorn falls in the warg attack, Legolas and Gimli turn to one another for comfort.

            Gimli stood at the edge of the cliff, staring down into the roiling water and rocks which waited far below. His eyes, while not as unnaturally sharp as an elf’s, were nonetheless keener than a human’s, and with them he desperately scanned the waters for signs that Aragorn had survived the fall. As the minutes passed, he was forced to admit to himself that the lad was not going to resurface.

            Although the fighting was over, Gimli turned to the battle field. His da had always taught him not to leave his back exposed in a fight, and it was a lesson that had proven its worth time and time again. Gimli knew that if Gloin could see him now, he would be scolding his grown son for his carelessness. Gimli noted that the remaining Rohirrim had dealt with the wargs and orcs, and he finally turned to the elf next to him.

            Legolas stood at the very edge of the drop, his body tense as his sharp eyes scanned the river below. To a stranger’s eyes, the elf would look as if he was calmly gazing at the water. However, after months of travel with Legolas, Gimli could see that he was searching just as desperately for signs of life as Gimli had been moments before.

            “Lad,” Gimli said softly. When Legolas looked up and met Gimli’s eyes, Gimli was struck by how young and _lost_ the elf looked. Older than Gimli by many hundreds of years Legolas might be, but when it came to dealing with death he was but a child.

            “Come now. We have to get these people safely to Helm’s Deep,” he continued quietly. “It’s what Aragorn would have wanted us to do.”

            Legolas glanced back down at the river, as if hoping against hope to see any signs that their friend had survived. But it was a lost cause, and Legolas knew it. His eyes fluttered closed for just a moment, before he opened them and turned away from the cliff. Gimli allowed himself one more look as well, before he hurried after the elf.

            _Goodbye, my friend. May you find the peace you searched for in life._

 

~ ~ ~ ~

 

            Gimli did his best to stay busy, and it wasn’t difficult. There was much to be done before the people of Rohan were settled in the keep, and fortifications were made. But finally, there was no more work that needed attending to, and Gimli found himself at a loss. Sleep eluded him, and food tasted of naught but ash.

            He found himself wandering through the keep, absently admiring the stonework. It was fairly good, for having been crafted by human hands. Gimli eventually found himself on a section of the ramparts that had no sentry. He was about to turn back when a solitary figure caught his eye.

            “You should get some sleep, elf,” Gimli said gruffly as he approached.

            “I do not require as much rest as dwarves or men, you know that,” Legolas replied quietly.

            Gimli leaned against the wall, which was low enough here for him to see over. It was a beautiful night, with the moon shining over the fields like silver, and the hills sloping away into the distance.

            “I miss him too, lad,” he finally said into the silence. Legolas was quiet for a long time before he replied.

            “It’s all gone wrong,” he whispered, almost to himself. “Estel was meant to unite Middle Earth, and bring light to drive away the shadows. Is that not why Boromir died? Or was it all for nothing?”

            Gimli couldn’t stand to hear the hopelessness in the elf’s voice.

            “Aye, it may feel that way now,” he replied slowly, searching for the words carefully. “But all things in this life are a part of the great song. All things have a purpose.”

            “What purpose could this serve?” Legolas said, and though it was dark Gimli could hear the angry tears in his voice.

            Gimli was quiet for a moment. There was no way he could rationalize Aragorn’s death, or take away Legolas’ pain. Nor would he want to. And with that thought, he knew what to say.

            “I am a terrible metalworker,” he told Legolas. The elf looked at him in surprise.

            “What?”

            “My family wanted me to go into either banking, my father’s business, or healing, or metalworking. Now, I think you can guess how I felt about banking,” he said with an eye roll. Legolas let out a soft breath that Gimli knew was akin to laughter.

            “I’m guessing not favorably.”

            “No, indeed. And I’ve not the bedside manners for healing. My philosophy is, if you aren’t on fire or bleeding buckets you can walk it off.”

            Another small laugh. “And metalworking?”

            “Ah, now there’s something that truly interested me. Unfortunately, I can’t craft so much as a plain metal bowl without turning it into a spectacular failure. But there were a few things I learned from it that I took away with me.”

            “What were those?” Legolas asked. Gimli had his attention now. The elf had turned to sit with his back against the wall, gazing up at Gimli like a dwarfling listening to a story.

            “There are certain metals, and I can’t tell you the names of them because it’s a dwarf secret, that are the strongest in all of Middle Earth, but they are often the most difficult to work with. They must be melted down before they can be wrought into anything useful, and for these metals that is no easy feat. They must be destroyed before they can be remade, you see.”

            Legolas glanced away, staring out at the vast grasslands of Rohan. “Why not let them be?” he asked.

            “Because once they have been melted down, they can be remade into the most beautiful armor you’ve ever seen. And I’ll tell you something, lad: armor made from this metal is stronger, brighter, and more resilient than the raw materials had been. Do you know why?”

            Legolas turned back to look up at Gimli, who was suddenly struck by how terribly blue the elf’s eyes were, even in the dim moonlight. “Why?”

            “Because there is another metal, equally difficult to work with. We melt it down and combine it with the first.” Gimli paused, making sure he had the elf’s full attention.

            “The metalworker destroys both metals, breaking them down and melting them. But when they are combined and reborn, they become the strongest, most beautiful material in Middle Earth. Harder than diamonds, even.”

            Legolas was quiet for a long time. Finally, he sighed, and stood. Quickly, before Gimli could really react, the elf took his hand and pressed it gently to his lips.

            “ _Guren glassui an cin, mellon nin. Nónen reviassen nedh dúath ú- cin_ ,” he said, the elvish sounding strange and alien to Gimli in the darkness. Although Legolas had released his hand, Gimli could still feel the long, cool fingers grasping his, and the soft touch of the elf’s lips.

            “I do not think I can sleep. But perhaps, some food?” Legolas said.

            Shaking himself, Gimli agreed that supper might be in order, and the two headed towards the sounds of people.

            “There is only one problem with your tale,” Legolas said after a minute.

            “And what is that?” Gimli asked, surprised.

            “How is it that I have never heard of this mysterious metal that is harder than diamonds?”

            “But you have heard of it, lad! Didn’t I say before? It is mithril!”

            Legolas’ mouth went slack for a moment in surprise, but then his blue eyes sparkled and he let loose a laugh. It rang out like bells across the dark plains of Rohan, shining and true. And though Gimli had despaired before, he heard his friend laugh and felt a glimmer of hope. It sparked in his chest and it stayed there, like the flame that lights a great forge.

 

 

A/N:

Sindarin Translation:

My heart is glad for you, my friend. I would have wandered in darkness without you.

 

Holy mother of god Sindarin is a difficult language. *sobs*


End file.
